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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28791186">tightrope</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltskin/pseuds/saltskin'>saltskin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>5 Seconds of Summer (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:54:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28791186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltskin/pseuds/saltskin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They have no qualms about touching, it’s just an extension of their friendship.</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Luke Hemmings/Calum Hood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tightrope</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He comes to the realization that he's bone tired. Not the standard that could be resolved with a nap, but the type that is followed by an existential crisis. The stage lights become multitudinous and too bright for his eyes so he just wants off of the stage. He wants to fall into a habitual cuddle with Luke, maybe. He's not really sure why there is this underlying frustration but it itches at him until it feels like innumerable pinpricks littering his skin. He feels a rush of gratitude when he realizes that this set will be over in roughly three minutes. In that time, Calum manages to give Luke a perfunctory look of exasperation; hoping that his tension is at least telepathically apparent. </p><p>They give their customary thank-yous and Calum nearly sprints backstage. He feels the familiar weight of Luke's arm on the broad set of his shoulders.</p><p>" 'm so fucking tired," Calum sighs.</p><p>Luke gives him a facsimile of a smile and taps a barely perceptible bag against Calum's arm. </p><p>"How the hell did you manage to get weed," Calum breathes in a hasty whisper.</p><p>Luke shrugs, his words lodged in the uptick of his lips.</p><p>-</p><p>Of course smoking would be Luke’s solution to this. It makes Calum hyperaware but languid all the same, and he's draped pliant and soft on Luke. </p><p>"You okay?"</p><p>Luke sounds distant, voice hitting him molasses-slow. He nods against the jut of Luke's clavicle. </p><p>"Good," Luke mumbles, voice engulfed by the serenity amidst the room. </p><p>In the hazy fog of Calum's mind, he is caught off guard by the monotonous rub of Luke's hand on his thigh. He notes that Luke could literally manhandle him because, his hands and when the fuck did that happen? He presses the conscious stream to the recesses of his mind and lets his leaden eyelids close. He revels in the soothing circles Luke is drawing on his thigh until it's no longer that. His hand is edging upward, Luke’s fingers pressed warm against the flat of Calum’s abdomen and his eyes open.</p><p>"Yeah?" Luke asks, inspecting Calum with a lazy ease. </p><p>Yeah." Calum answers</p><p>Luke's fingers curl at the nape of Calum's neck. The entire dynamic of their friendship feels off-kilter. They have no qualms about touching, it’s just an extension of their friendship.  It should be nothing when he traces the vein along the underside of Luke’s wrist. Calum does not take heed to any discernible feelings that spread like a bruise underneath his skin. He’s the type to jump into something prematurely, not really thinking logistically, but Calum really thinks about this. He thinks about how the infrastructure of their  friendship would crumble and rebuild itself, like a lost city or something. Relearning the fundamentals of their relationship would be the equivalent of teaching yourself French in a day. </p><p>So, Calum can't believe his dick is hardening from the ghost of a touch over the thick denim of his jeans. He really has no time to dwell on the thought because he’s arching into the promise of Luke's hand on him. His initial trepidation dissipates as Luke mouths along the tense column of Calum's neck. He's keening at this point as Luke works steadfast to unbutton his jeans. His hand aimlessly tracing the line of Calum’s dick as if it were an everyday task. Arousal pools low in Calum's stomach as he shifts back into the open expanse between Luke's legs. He groans at the press of Luke against him. He’s unmistakably keyed-up, his dick red and leaking.</p><p>Luke maneuvers so he’s kneeling between the spread of Calum’s thighs. He can feel the rhythmic thrum of his heart resonating in the slight hollow of his sternum. With considerable apprehension, Luke mouths the head of Calum’s dick</p><p>“Fuck,” Calum grits out.</p><p>There was no preamble to Luke licking a fat stripe along the underside. He lays the flat of his palm at the base and Calum is almost one-hundred percent sure that he’s close. His vision vignettes from the tight drag of Luke’s mouth. He ignores the creeping mortification his impending orgasm brings.</p><p>“Shit, Luke I-I’m close,” Calum manages.</p><p>This doesn’t deter Luke as he suctions along the head of Calum’s dick, a hand working alongside his mouth. Calum worries the scarlet-tinged jut of his bottom lip between his teeth, but it does not suppress the whimper that sidles out. He can feel as Luke hums his approval with the hint of a smirk.</p><p>Calum chokes out an approximation of Luke’s name and a shiver tiptoes gustily along his spine. Close on the preamble that this is actually happening, and the statuesque lines of Luke’s face. It was ridiculous. Luke’s free hand engulfs the expanse of Calum’s hip, holding him down as he comes.</p><p>Calum duly notes Luke’s slow rut against his palm and reaches down to help. </p><p>“It’s okay,” Luke says, his smile indolent and saccharine sweet, “this was for you. Plus, there’s always next time.”</p><p>Calum thinks a thank-you slips out but he’s not really sure because the tiredness edges nearby and his brain is unable to assess the promise of a next time hanging on what seems the precipice of the atmosphere. His eyes close with a sleep-soft sound in his throat as Luke rejoins him, lying docile across his lap with a strong arm wrapped around Calum’s waist.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>edit of an old fic and first time writing in forever, so i'm completely open to feedback!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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